


The Lucifer Brand

by 15Strawberries



Category: Burn Notice, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Gen, and after season one episode two of Lucifer, entirely self indulgent, set post series for Burn Notice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 02:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11175183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/15Strawberries/pseuds/15Strawberries
Summary: Michael was just trying to pick his nephew up from preschool. He wasn't expecting the stranger that had showed up out of nowhere to question him about a past that had long since been dead and buried.





	The Lucifer Brand

**Author's Note:**

> Short, sweet, and completely self indulgent. Enjoy!

  
Michael saw the guy first. Tall, dark, in a bespoke suit and moving with far too much confidence to be completely harmless. He was the last person Michael would have expected to be walking down the street in front of a Catholic preschool; the guy didn't look like a kid person at all.

Only it looked like he wasn't here for anyone in the school. He had caught sight of where Michael was leaning against the car, waiting for Charlie to come out of school, and was heading straight for him with a pleased smile. "Michael Weston," He announced, in front of a street full of housewives waiting for their children to leave school, and Michael had to stop himself from reaching for the the gun tucked into his waistband, "You're a surprisingly difficult man to find."

"I think you have me confused for someone else," Michael told him, Irish accent firmly in place, "The name's McBride."

"Come now, no need to be coy," The man gave him an appreciative once-over, then held out a hand, "Lucifer. Morningstar."

"Morningstar?" Michael raised a brow, shaking the offered hand. He had a surprisingly good handshake, firm and short, with none of the crushing grip men like him usually indulged in to turn a simple greeting into a pissing contest. "That's an odd name for an Englishman."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not English." Lucifer said with a razor-edged grin.

A few of the nearby housewives crossed themselves and moved to the other side of the street. Lucifer turned his grin on them, "Be sure you tell my father I said hello."

"Is there something I can help you with Mr. Morningstar?" Michael interrupted, before the man could antagonize his neighbors any more than he already had.

"Yes, of course," Lucifer stuck his hands in his pockets, "Let's get down to business Mr. Weston--"

"McBride."

"If you like. I recently had my identity stolen. Some two bit hip hop artist was running around Los Angeles claiming to be me."

"Heaven forbid."

"Heaven had nothing to do with it," Lucifer said, "Anyway, it made me realize that I needed to be careful with my name and my identity, or else I would lose all credibility. So I made a few calls, see if I could find who else might be running around with my name. There were the usual, the insane, the deluded, and then one quite charming fellow in Oklahoma whose mother had a truly wicked sense of humor . . . ." Lucifer's smile grew wider, "Imagine my surprise when I heard that someone in Miami had been doing good deeds in my name."

Michael felt his stomach drop, "A fine tale, Mr. Morningstar," He said, keeping a tolerant, amused smile on his face, "But I don't see what it has to do with me."

"Don't you?" Lucifer stepped closer, "It would have been about a decade ago. Omar Hernandez. A quaint little neighborhood in Little Havana."

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"The people I spoke to were a bit confused," Lucifer continued as if Michael hadn't spoken, "They weren't clear on whether it was a devil or the Devil, or-- what was the phrase? Oh yes, 'a crazy gringo in a fancy suit.'"

"Seems the man you're looking for made quite the impression on those folk."

"Yes he did, didn't he?" Lucifer took another step closer, and Michael leaned back, "I came to get the story directly from the source."

Michael laughed, sliding away, "You're wasting you're time, man, I have no idea--"

"Michael, Michael, Michael, I told you, there's no need to play hard to get," Lucifer stepped closer again, and this time Michael couldn't move away, "Just tell me what happened in Miami."

"I don't--"

"You know you want to."

"I can't--"

"Why deny your desires?"

"Because right now I want to shoot you and hide the body in my trunk." Michael said quietly, accent dropping as the words rose unbidden to his lips.

"Please do," Lucifer murmured, his eyes never leaving Michael's, "I'm conducting an experiment and could use a few more data points."

"I don't want to traumatize a bunch of school kids."

"Then tell me what I want to know." Lucifer's eyes were like black holes, drinking in the light. "Come on Michael," He said, low and husky, "Tell me what you want."

_. . . . What I want is-_

"Uncle Michael!"

Just like that, the spell was broken. Michael felt a rush of cold, like ice through his veins, as Charlie came running out of the school gates. The boy stopped short when he saw Lucifer, eyes flicking between the two men. "Uncle Michael, who's this?"

"Honestly, what is it with humans and procreation?" Lucifer muttered, giving Michael a disappointed look before turning to Charlie, "My name is Lucifer Morningstar," He said, loudly and slowly, "I need to speak with your uncle, so why don't you go . . . eat some dirt or whatever it is children do."

Charlie gave Lucifer a deeply unimpressed look, "Uncle Michael, why does the Devil need to talk to you?"

Michael sighed, "Charlie, he's not--"

"No no, the child is quite right." Lucifer looked pleasantly surprised.

"Right," Michael drawled, giving the man a look askance as he dug his cell phone out of his pocket. He tossed it to Charlie, "I need to speak with this man in private, Charlie. Why don't you give your Auntie Fi a call and ask her if Uncle Jesse is available to babysit?"

Charlie's eyes widened, and he nodded before running back inside the school.

"Not much of a poker player, that one." Lucifer noted critically.

"Why would he need to be?"

Lucifer favored Michael with a knowing smile, pinning him with those lightless eyes, "You want me to leave, don't you? Never darken your door again?"

"Yes." Once again, words came unbidden to Michael's lips.

"Then let's make a deal. Tell me why you were pretending to be the devil in Miami, and I will leave. You will never see me again for as long as you live. After that, of course, no guarantees."

"You expect me to believe that."

Lucifer smiled, "My word is my bond."

Michael studied him for a moment longer, then glanced around the busy street. No one seemed to have noticed them, "Let's find a pub."

"Alcohol, yes, excellent!" Lucifer cheered, "I like you already!"

They walked to the Green Dragon and got a seat at the bar, in full view of both the exits. Fiona had a standing agreement with the owner; if this was going to turn ugly, better it happen here than in front of Charlie's school.

Michael ordered a Guinness, Lucifer ordered a shot of top shelf brandy and told the waiter to leave the bottle. "Y'understand," Michael began, scanning the room to make sure no one was close enough to overhear, "That this is just a story."

"Yes, yes." Lucifer knocked back the shot and poured himself another.

"And once you hear it you'll leave?"

Lucifer smirked at him over the rim of his shot glass, "We did make a deal."

So Michael told Lucifer about a week in a little barrio in Miami, about a drug-dealing child predator named Rincon and a mysterious man named Louis who had started, and finished, a gang war to bring him to justice.

"So, this Rincon character." Lucifer asked once the story was over, pouring another shot of brandy, "Was he punished?"

"What?"

"Was Rincon punished?" Lucifer repeated, downing his drink in one gulp.

"I'm not the one to ask," Michael said slowly, eyeing Lucifer, "He went back to Texas for trial. If the state didn't kill him, the prison gangs would have."

"Hmm. I suppose that would have to do," Lucifer sounded disappointed. "Still!" He brightened, "I have no complaints. Far from diluting the Lucifer brand, you've enhanced it." He eyed his fingers speculatively and snapped, "I may have to give that a try myself sometime."

"It's not something amateurs should be messing with." Michael told him, "A good way to end up dead, that."

"Well, I am immortal." Lucifer remarked, and polished off his brandy, "You've lived up to your end of the bargain. Time for me to make good on mine." He gave Michael another slow smile, "Though if you and your lady fair ever make it out to the City of Angels, I certainly won't turn you away. I own a club there, you should look me up."

"I'll be sure to do that." Michael agreed pleasantly, making a mental note to never, ever go to Los Angeles.

Lucifer chuckled, and stood up, "Michael, it's been a pleasure," He announced, throwing a couple hundred-euro bills down on the table, "If you're good, then we'll never see each other again. If you're not, well," He gave Michael another razor edged grin, his lightless eyes flashing as he waved jauntily and walked away, "I'll see you in hell."  



End file.
